Triple Full
by Gixxer Pilot
Summary: McCoy might be a cranky, snarky bastard, but even he's not immune to 'proud papa' moments when it comes to Joanna. It would have been nice if she'd picked a sport that wouldn't scare him into a heart attack, but beggars can't be choosers.


**Author's Notes**: As a former gymnast converted to springboard diving when I was in high school, gymnastics has always held a special place in my heart. Even though I quit both sports after high school, I continued to follow gymnastics. I'm glad, too, because it gave me a bunch of great ideas. I started this fic before the 2012 London Olympics, and watching the games solidified my resolve to actually finish it. For it, I've drawn inspiration from quite a few of my favorite gymnasts over the years. Some is technical and some is artistic, but I hope I've done a sufficient job of describing what's going on, both from a spectator's standpoint, and from a gymnasts'. You know, because flipping through the air is just _win_.

Also, I wrote this _well_ before Into Failure was even in production, so consider it an AU of sorts.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Star Trek or any of the gymnastics referenced herein. I only own this idea and a giant bag of dark chocolate Raisinets.

* * *

"I'm not doing it. You do it."

Christine Chapel rolled her eyes and waved one hand towards the sleeping physician sprawled inelegantly across his very disorderly desk. Turning her head, she replaced her hands to her hips and sent an exasperated glare towards the man standing to her immediate left. Incredulously, she whispered, "Oh, good lord. You're kidding me, right? You're the captain. This is your job."

"He's your boss," Kirk stated, his tone bordering just the right side of a childish whine.

"And _your_ subordinate," Chapel fired right back, barely restraining the urge to poke the blonde man in the chest with one painted fingernail.

Kirk folded his arms across his chest in a freakish impersonation of their object of contention. "Exactly," he huffed, puffing his chest up just a little bit. "And as the captain, I'm pulling rank. The last time I woke him up when he was sleeping like that, he hypoed me into oblivion."

Christine's sharp blue eyes narrowed. She waved one finger through the air at her boss' boss while he clicked her tongue. "Remind me one more time how you decided to do that?"

Kirk fidgeted in place for a brief moment before he admitted, "Okay, dumping a mug of his cold coffee over Bones' head wasn't the best way to wake him up. But we were in a jam, and I needed his attention in a hurry."

"You're lucky he didn't murder you with his bare hands," she said, idly picking at a stubborn hangnail on her right hand. "And it was a pity, too. Cost me two hundred credits."

Jim's mouth fell open. "You—Christine, I'm disappointed. You bet against the greatness of James T. Kirk?"

"No, I bet _for_ the angry, uncaffeinated abomination that is Leonard H. McCoy!"

Jim took a breath to refute Chapel's revelation but stopped right before the words tumbled from his mouth. "Bones without caffeine in the morning is kind of a scary thing, I won't lie. But still, he'd never do that to me. He's honor bound by that physician's code…whatchamacallit to do no harm. Besides, if he murdered me, who would be left for him to bitch about?" He grinned at the Enterprise's head nurse while he waggled his eyebrows. "And I'm telling your boss that you just called him an abomination."

With an emphatic nod of her head, Chapel concluded, "Leonard's right. You're a pain in the ass."

Jim, wondering if Christine had taken lessons in non-verbal intimidation from her boss, took an instinctive step backwards at Chapel's bone-chilling glare. Kirk cleared his throat, changed his tone to something he hoped resembled maturity, and went for Plan B. "Christine, I've thought about this. You're the best person for this job. I know he won't do anything to you, because he needs you."

"And we don't need you, _Captain_?" Christine asked, making sure to emphasize Jim's rank.

Kirk shrugged. "Well, according to Bones, no we don't. You know him – he thinks the ship flies itself and that I have rocks in my head. How many times have you heard him curse Pike and stupid field promotions?"

Chapel snorted and pointed to her own temple. "Well, he's got a point."

"Hey!" Kirk hissed, attempting to keep his voice down. He straightened, pulled his uniform shirt down and cracked is neck. In the most official tone he could muster, Jim half-ordered, "Nurse, I leave sickbay in your very capable hands. You and I both know that Dr. McCoy's been on his feet for the past thirty hours, and he needs a break in a real bed. Please make sure he gets there," before he turned and walked out the door.

Chapel stared at Kirk's retreating back with righteous indignation. "Men!" she griped to the nearly silent sickbay. She threw her hands up in the air and added, "I am deserting Earth for Betazed. I will never understand how we evolved past the amoeba phase with you simple-minded idiots in charge." Marching over to the lump of humanity sacked out on the desk, Christine leaned down and put her mouth two inches from her boss' ear. "Dr. McCoy. Doctor. Len. _Leonard!_" Chapel finally hollered, her voice arching in a sharp crescendo with each salutation.

At the sound of his head nurse's combat bark, McCoy's head bolted upright from the smooth surface. His spine snapped to attention and his hands moved of their own volition, sending data PADDs scattering across the floor. Medical charts, research and a couple of journals all wound up in separate corners of the room as the man startled awake. Wide, unfocused and slightly glassy green eyes darted around the room as awareness flooded back. "Dammit, woman!" McCoy yelled as he zeroed in on the familiar figure standing at the corner of his desk. He willed his heartbeat to slow through a couple of deep breaths before he asked Chapel, "Are you trying to scare me into an early grave?"

Christine simply shook her head and held his steely gaze. "No, I'm trying to pull that foot you already have in it right back out. Look what you're doing to yourself, working yourself to death like you are."

"It would have been nice to get the personnel memo, telling me that my mother is now on board a starship," the doctor muttered as he searched instinctively for a cup of a coffee.

"I'm not your mother," she replied wryly. "But I bet I could give her a run for her money. It's a tough job, being your keeper, but you need it."

Len swiped one hand over his face, took a deep breath and glared at his head nurse. "I am not working myself to death, and I sure as hell don't need a babysitter. Working every second of every day is Spock's thing, not mine."

"Like hell," Chapel said bluntly. Shifting her stance, she told him frankly, "You need to get some rest, and I'm under orders to make sure it happens."

"I _was_ resting," McCoy retorted with a little more heat in his tone than necessary. "I was resting just fine until someone decided they needed to wake me up by yelling in my damned ear!"

"Your desk is not a bed, Leonard."

"It's good enough for me. Besides, I have patients," he replied, busying his hands by searching for the various data PADDs he launched when Chapel woke him.

"The fact that you were not only out cold on top of your desk, but that you also slept through an argument between your head nurse and your pain in the ass captain suggests that you most certainly need some sleep. Real sleep, in a real bed, away from patients and annoying captains," Christine answered, undeterred.

McCoy blinked owlishly. "You argued with Jim? And I slept through it?"

Chapel's face softened. "You can be disappointed later. I promise to give you the play-by-play breakdown when your brain is actually capable of processing information. But for now," she said, stepping forward and gently pulling at his elbow, "You need to take your own advice and get the hell out of here. Relax. Sleep. Read. Do something that's not related to your work for at least the next twelve hours."

"But-" he began in protest.

"Come on, Len. You're no good to anyone if you're ready to drop. Everyone is stable for now. M'Benga is here, and we can handle it. And, I promise I'll call you if anything huge happens." Tsking her tongue at her stubborn boss, she added, "You trust us, right? It'll be fine."

The room swayed in front of him as McCoy stood from his chair. Suddenly aware of every sore part of his exhausted body (even those parts he'd forgotten existed), the Enterprise CMO reached one hand up and massaged the baseball sized knot lodged in the muscle near the edge of his scapula. He hated to admit it, but perhaps Christine had a point. His feet felt heavy and his head fuzzy, and if the fate of the universe depended on it, he doubted he could formulate a coherent insult. "Tell M'Benga to comm me if anything changes."

"We will. Now go," Chapel replied, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against his desk.

McCoy waved his hand through the air as he forced his feet to move in proper rhythm. Nodding wearily to the gamma crew on duty, he trudged out the door and down the corridor of the ship. He walked on autopilot, navigating the hallways of the Enterprise with a combination of will and muscle memory alone.

Thumbing in the code to the door of his quarters, a trail of clothing followed McCoy's path from his door to his bedroom as he unceremoniously stripped and headed for the sonic. A real hot water shower sounded amazing, but he was far too tired for anything other something quick and easy. In and out, Len threw on a pair of underwear and wandered out into the living area, intent on grabbing a bit of real food and a strong drink (not necessarily in that order) before he crashed until the next Kirk-induced crisis.

He rounded the corner, yawning and stretching as he passed the small couch and chair set in the living area. McCoy's foot broke the threshold of the small kitchenette off to the side of his quarters when movement out of the ordinary finally registered in his sluggish brain. The feeling of the cold tile on his bare feet jerked him back to reality as he blinked once, then again. Len silently cursed himself for such lax attention to his surroundings while he wished he'd thought to stash a phaser in his kitchen. Shaking his head, the ship's physician took two steps backwards, and, ever so slowly, craned his neck and head around the curve of the wall.

The source of the noise stopped abruptly when he realized another set of eyes was on him. He popped up from his place on the floor and sent an enthusiastic wave to the shell-shocked man. "Doctor McCoy! _Privyet_!" Pavel Chekov called happily, leaning back on his haunches.

McCoy let out a silent breath of relief that his intruder was none other than the Enterprise's navigator, and not an assassin hell-bent on killing him slowly and painfully. Holding up one hand, he made a quick pit stop to his bedroom for some pants and a shirt he hoped was blood-free. Pulling them on with a series of annoyed grunts, he exited and silently padded back into the kitchen in search of a glass and the bottle of bourbon in the cabinet. Items in hand, he walked back into the living room and set both on the coffee table, collapsing into the soft cushions on his favorite chair.

Throughout the entire excursion, the Enterprise's residence Russian genius remained silent, content to aim his focus at the mishmash of technology spread out before him. McCoy narrowed his eyes at the young man, and as he poured himself a tall glass, asked, "What the hell are you doing in here, Chekov? Is this more of Jim's meddling into my life?"

"_Nyet_, Doctor," Pavel answered distractedly as he reached for the stylus and one of three PADDs within his arms' reach.

Feeling his heart rate spike, McCoy sucked in a breath through his nose and vowed not to simply sedate the young man before throwing him into the corridor outside his quarters. '_Sunshine, rainbows and happy bullshit_,' he thought while he counted backwards from twenty in his head, closing his eyes at the same time. When he reopened them, he asked slowly and deliberately, "Then what are you doing here? And why are you screwing with my vidscreen? Because Chekov, so help your genius Russian ass if I miss the Superbowl-"

"You will not miss your American football game. That I can promise," Pavel said with a barely contained shudder of fear. God forbid; the entire ship's compliment knew McCoy might blow up the Federation's flagship if someone or something interrupted his annual foray into football fanaticism. "I am young, but I am not insane!"

McCoy's expression softened as he took another long pull from the glass, draining the contents. He could feel the blessed slightly warm, tingling sensation snaking its way through his body as the alcohol worked its magic. Reaching forward to pour another glass, he said, "Fair 'nough. Now, are you gonna tell me why you broke into my quarters?"

Confused, Chekov tilted his head to the side. "You do not remember today's date?"

"I've had my hands in more chest cavities today than I have fingers to count them on," the doctor admitted with a sigh. He tipped his head back into the cushion of the couch and closed his eyes, rubbing the pads of his fingers in them for good measure. Levering his half-lidded gaze towards the young Russian, he added, "I'm too tired for mind fucks. Just tell me why're here."

"It would be better to show you." Chekov turned towards his work wordlessly, and punching in a couple of final commands, smiled proudly at the image suddenly projected on the screen.

The picture cut in and out for the first initial seconds upon connection. When it finally cleared, the feed gave way to a view of a large, cavernous warehouse-looking room with high ceilings and bright, white walls. Blue and red racing stripes, one apiece, was painted at the top of the wall running parallel to the ceiling. Large, high intensity lamps hung from the white metal catwalks in the ceiling, illuminating the floor and several odd looking pieces of equipment scattered about.

It took a second for his overtaxed brain to register why, exactly, Chekov saw fit to bring up a feed from a gym, but McCoy nearly slapped himself once recognition set in. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Joanna's gymnastics meet. Shit – I forgot all about it."

"When you did not show up to the recreation room tonight, I figured that was the case, yes. But you have a reason."

"That doesn't make forgettin' about my own kid any easier," McCoy grumped back. Scrunching his face up, he pointed one finger towards the young Russian sitting on the floor. "Speaking of which, how do you know about this meet anyway?"

"I helped her set it up," Pavel replied, puzzled. "One of the opposing clubs is from my hometown in Russia. It is an exchange program. Next year Joanna and her friends will visit Russia for their annual meet. You are aware of this fact, yes?"

McCoy turned his head and fixed Chekov with a chilling stare. The dark circles floating under his eyes accentuated the bright red waterlines that faded into bloodshot whites, obscuring the natural color of the doctor's brownish-green eyes. Bulldozing straight past Chekov's mention of an overseas trip, McCoy instead questioned, "When have you been talking to my daughter?"

"We have been talking since we met at the Enterprise's launch party," Pavel replied, drawing out his answer as a bit of a trepidation colored his tone. "We have informed you that we are friends, Doctor."

"The hell you have!" Bones hollered. He leaned forward in his chair, sending the decorate pillow someone helpfully placed there before the ship left spacedock toppling to the floor. Pointing one finger towards Chekov, McCoy was about to open his mouth to lay into the younger man when the sound of the outer door to his quarters whooshing open caught his attention. He swiveled in place, craning his neck as far as it would stretch to glare at his uninvited guests.

Jim Kirk filed in, followed closely by Uhura and Sulu, the latter carrying armloads of food and beverages. "Stick those on the counter," Kirk ordered Uhura, pointing to the small breakfast bar that made up most of McCoy's kitchenette. He gave the various knick-nacks on the counter a quick shove over in order to make room for the two overflowing trays of vegetables, meat and cheese the galley helpfully prepared on a whim teetering precariously in the communications officer's arms. Turning his head to Sulu and the cases of alcohol he toted, Jim added, "The beer goes in the tub next to the couch. I don't want to have to get up to get a drink."

"The fuck is this shit?!" McCoy protested loudly as he watched the tornado of un-choreographed activity whirling around him.

"A spontaneous party, Bones. Or, as you might call it, an invasion," Kirk replied, not even breaking stride long enough to address his slightly flabbergasted friend. Jim stopped, squatted next to the couch, and plopped a big tub brimming to the top with ice within inches of McCoy's bare toes. He clapped the doctor on the shoulder as he and Sulu exchanged high fives and insisted, "But either way, it'll be fun. I promise you."

"Let's get a few things straight, kid," McCoy began, heedless of the fact he was addressing both his captain and superior officer. "I didn't ask for this to happen here, I don't need your brand of fun, and I sure as hell didn't invite you all here. Who's brilliant goddamn idea was this?"

Four sets of eyes, two brown, one green and one blue, slipped towards the innocent looking blonde haired young man clamoring up from his space on the doctor's floor. Sheepishly, Pavel looked down at his hands and shrugged. He sent McCoy and apologetic glance before he admitted, "I might have invited the Keptin and Mister Sulu to watch the meet with me earlier this afternoon, and when Lt. Uhura overheard it, I thought it would be impolite not to include her, too. And then the Keptin decided that it might be better to watch it with you, here in your quarters, so we called the galley for food, and, well…"

"Unbelievable. Tell me again why we have locks on the doors on this ship?"

Kirk 'phssed' out loud. "Like locks are going to stop anyone in this command group," he said, maintaining a perfectly straight face.

"Pot, kettle. And you're cleaning this shit up when we're done here. Just sayin'," McCoy informed the group, looking each and every one of them in the eyes as he huffed loudly and sunk back into the couch.

"Fair enough. Not like I've never cleaned up after you before, roommate," Jim said easily, hopping over the back of the couch to take his seat between his best friend and the beer. Propping his feet up on the table, Kirk reached into the bucket, grabbed a cold one, and popped the top. "Man, if you guys only knew. Don't buy the 'straight laced doctor' routine. He's not. Believe me."

Uhura's eyes lit up as she moved without conscious thought, perching herself on the armrest next to Kirk. "Oh! Academy roomie stories! I want to hear these! Gaila will love them!"

Jim threw back his head and laughed. "What do you want to hear?"

"I don't care. Something juicy," she said, settling in, eagerly waiting like a baby bird at dinner time.

Snorting indignantly, McCoy leapt off the couch and physically grabbed Jim from behind, clapping one of his hands over the blonde man's mouth before one more word could spill from it. "Like hell you're going to tell her any of _those_ stories, not if you don't want me murdering you in your sleep."

Uhura raised one eyebrow, her gesture reminding the group that she was, in fact, Spock's better half. "That bad, huh Len?"

"Worse. 'O course it doesn't help when you have a roommate who embellishes the hell outta' everything."

"Like you don't do the same thing, Bones," Kirk chimed in.

"I can separate fact from fiction, which is a skill your infant brain hasn't mastered yet," McCoy insisted, whirling around the stick one finger in Jim's face.

Kirk responded by raising his left arm out to his shoulder, and with the beer still dangling from the fingertips of his right hand, made a sawing motion back and forth above his bicep. "You want some cheese with that whine?"

"These are my quarters. I'm free to bitch inside them as I see fit. And furthermore," McCoy ranted, the vein in his forehead poking out at attention as his blood pressure spiked another ten points, "The only reason I use my quarters is to get away from you assholes, and you overrun it anyway." the doctor asked the instant before his eyes slid over to the displeased face of Nyota Uhura. Cringing at his lack of manners, McCoy added, "Present company not included, of course."

Uhura tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Please, Len. Don't insult me with that chivalrous bullshit. You know better than to front."

The simultaneous sounds of two snickers (Chekov and Sulu) and a wolf whistle (Kirk) bounced around the CMO's quarters in response to Uhura's remark. "Careful, Doctor," Sulu began lightly while he playfully nudged Pavel in the shoulder. "I think we've found a challenger to the 'Best Glare on the Enterprise' contest."

The captain watched as Uhura stood up, set her jaw, shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms over her chest as she fixed McCoy with a challenging stare. He leaned over towards his helmsman and said, "No way. Uhura'd kick Bones' ass."

"For once, Jim, I actually agree with you," she insisted before she jerked her thumb towards McCoy. "He'd lose. It wouldn't even be a fair fight."

Kirk's eyebrows jumped up and down. Turning to the ship's CMO, he admitted, "Uhura's got a point. Her practice is trading facial expressions with Spock, and he pisses you off just by breathing."

McCoy snorted out loud and slammed the remainder of his drink before he collapsed back down to the couch. "And here I thought you never noticed anything."

"I notice plenty, Bones," Kirk replied nonchalantly as McCoy reached for the bottle of bourbon on the table. "And right now, I'm noticing that you're on your third drink after being up for almost two days."

"Jesus H. Christ. If it isn't Chapel mothering me – at your insistence I might add – it's you. What the fuck do you care what and how much I'm drinking? My hangover that much of a concern to you now, Captain?" McCoy snarked at Kirk, the effect of the bourbon and the exhaustion loosening his tongue to just the proper side of insubordination.

Kirk, well acquainted with McCoy's alcohol induced mood swings, simply shrugged off his friend's tirade. He picked up the glass and poured himself a drink, draining it without so much as a flinch. He set it gently back on the table and said, "Nah, I'm not your mother. I'm just wondering how you plan on staying awake for Jo's meet when you're drinking at that rate."

Wordlessly, the doctor shifted so most of his weight was on his left hip and reached into the pocket of his sweats. Pulling out a hypo and small cartridge, he tossed both items haphazardly on the table. While the silver hypo delivery vehicle simply skidded across the black surface, the small, orange container spun in an oblong circle, finally coming to rest face up next to McCoy's glass. "That's how."

Jim leveled himself up to a seated position, leaned forward, and picked up the hypo cartridge. Flipping it right side up, he squinted in the low light. "A stim shot? I thought you didn't like using these things."

"I don't, especially since I've been awake for so long. But I want to watch my little girl do her thing, and this is the only way I know will take me through to the end," McCoy answered, trailing off as he turned his head towards the screen. For a fleeting moment, a sad, almost whimsical expression graced his features, visible only to those who knew him well enough to catch it.

Kirk swallowed hard and plastered a smile on his face. He missed his own family while he was out in the black just as much as the lowest ranked enlisted man on the ship. But as much as he loved hanging out with his mom and brother, Sam's kids weren't his own. Sympathetic understanding was one thing, but Kirk knew he could never empathize with his best friend, nor did he even bother with an attempt. It humbled him; the fact that McCoy willingly chose to serve as the Enterprise's CMO when the cost was watching his daughter grow up through holos and infrequent comm calls made Jim appreciative beyond words at Bones' level of commitment. He swore that every day he'd work on repaying that favor, even if McCoy thought Kirk's ulterior motive was to drive him to an early grave.

Jim wandered over to his best friend's desk and picked up a holocube that resided right next to the framed paper photo of him, McCoy and Pike. Kirk snorted out loud as he looked down at the old Starfleet Academy picture. Jim couldn't even remember what he did to incur the then-captain's wrath for that particular incident, but whatever he did, it made for one great snapshot. Chris' red, angry face was mere millimeters from Jim's, and despite being the same height as Kirk (well, at least the same height then - Nero's bug cost Chris an inch or two), Pike was dwarfing the younger man with his presence. Just off Jim's right shoulder, Bones stood, caught in frame trying to maintain some decorum while Chris screamed at Jim. Len's rolling eyes and sarcastic, exasperated smirk on his face said in an expression what Pike was probably saying with words. It was epitomic of the relationship the three men shared. If memory severed, there was beer involved directly afterwards.

Turning from the table and away from his memories, Jim tossed the holo up and down in his hands. He flipped it on and set it on the table, elbowing Bones hard enough to make the man move over towards the side of the couch. The little device projected a positively gorgeous three-dimensional image of Joanna. The girl was dressed in a purple, blue and white rhinestone-studded leotard, her body stretched but elegant, while she stood on the ball of her right foot. Her back was arched enough to physically accommodate the fact that her left leg, foot held loosely from behind by her left hand, was raised above her head. With her back and leg creating an illusion of a circle, it made her look like a human letter 'P'. The flexibility, strength and balance the move required to pull it off so stylishly made Jim shudder.

Nudging McCoy's shoulder, Kirk pointed. "Wow. That's a really bendy holo of your kid. Is that to remind you that it's possible for some people to do that and not break?"

Smirking, McCoy tilted his head towards the captain and stared at him with the expression reserved only for use on annoying little shit captains. In his trademarked sharp tone, he replied, "Are you volunteering to be a test subject? I'd love to give it a shot."

"Whoa, whoa! I said 'some people'! That doesn't include me!" Jim half-screeched as his hands flew up defensively in front of his face. Kirk opened his mouth and then closed it, tapping one finger against his chin. "But, now that you mention it, I do have a question."

McCoy's heavy sigh was his only reply.

"I have to know: does Jo get the flexibility gene from you, or Jocelyn? Because if it's from you, maybe we should reevaluate the whole 'just BFFs' thing," Jim said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Raising one 'are you serious' eyebrow, the doctor replied succinctly, "You were the student assistant in my Intro to Hand-to-Hand. You should know the answer to that one."

Jim shook his head, disbelief on his face. "And here I thought you faked that groin injury to get out of the basic throws exercises."

"Are you kidding me? O' course I faked that one. That hand to hand class was the most idiotic waste of my time in the three years I spent at the academy, and that includes the semester I was stuck in Interstellar Physics because some asshole in student affairs couldn't read a goddamned schedule right!"

"Why don't you tell us how your really feel, Len?" Uhura said with a laugh, popping a piece of cauliflower in her mouth from the tray on the counter.

"Doesn't he always?" Sulu chimed in as he joined Nyota in front of the food. He handed the young lady a beer that she accepted readily, unscrewing the cap barehanded without a flinch before she took a long, satisfying pull.

McCoy shook his head. It was amazing how at home his friends were in a place that clearly was not theirs to claim. Stretching out lazily on the sofa, he gave Jim's hip a surprisingly hard kick, sending the younger man toppling to the floor with a strangled yelp. McCoy smirked proudly, propped his feet up on the suddenly unoccupied armrest and leaned backwards. "I guess I don't get a say in this."

"Nope," came three identical responses.

With a dramatic, put upon sigh, McCoy's hand reached across from the couch to the coffee table and groped until he found the stim shot and hypo itself. Out of habit, he checked the dosage, loaded the cartridge, flipped it over and dosed himself in the neck. "So much for sleep."

"You can do that when you're dead, Bones," Kirk informed his friend as he accepted a hand up from Sulu. Wincing at his sore hip, he added, "Man, that hurt."

McCoy lifted his eyes towards Jim's as he felt the pleasant tingling of the stimulant rush through his body. Suddenly rejuvenated, his limbs didn't feel as heavy and the fog that settled over his mind began to lift. The medical side of him knew it was simply a chemically manufactured euphoria, but his screaming body didn't care. He gave Kirk a worthy glare and sniped back, "It was supposed to hurt. I want you to feel my pain. At this rate, you're going to be the one who puts me six feet under."

Uhura actually laughed out loud. "Not if you airlock him first, like you've been threatening to do for the last – oh, I don't know how many years!"

Sulu leaned over and mock-whispered in Nyota's ear, "We're selling tickets. We'll make enough to retire."

McCoy bobbed his eyebrows up and down. "You give me a cut and I'll do it. I'll plead temporary insanity at the hearing. After all the ammunition you all have given me, there's no way in hell it won't work."

"Looks like I'm sunk," Jim admitted, dropping his head to his chin and raising his hands in sarcastic surrender. Glancing towards the screen, he pointed. "And, I think we're about to start."

A slightly frenetic burst of energy stormed through the room as the five people in the doctor's quarters all jockeyed for a place to sit. Equal parts comedic and discouraging, staking a claim to the available furniture real estate was an event in and of itself. Some crushed toes, sore ribs and bruised egos later, the five present members of the Enterprise's senior staff were all strategically positioned in front of McCoy's vidscreen.

The doctor couldn't help the real smile that graced his features when Joanna's name was announced. The slight but well toned and muscled young lady stepped forward from the line of teammates, raised both her arms above her head, puffed her chest out and smirked before she lowered her arms and stepped back into line.

"Come on, Jojo," McCoy whispered as the group dispersed.

"What's she starting on? Anyone know the order for this competition?" Uhura asked, dropping one of the trays of food she retrieved from the kitchen on top of the coffee table.

"Olympic order, like usual I'm sure," Jim replied succinctly.

Sulu shook his head, pointing to the screen with the hand that held his beer. "Actually, I don't think so. Look – Jo's wrapping up."

Indeed, all heads turned back towards the screen in time to see Jo disperse with the other athletes, trotting over to her starting apparatus. She plopped down on the floor, reached into her bag and pulled out a set of white leather grips. Pulling the rectangular protectants over her fingers and securing them with the buckle style strap around her wrist, Jo clapping her hands together a couple of times and bounced in place on the floor, ridding herself of some nervous energy.

The charged, anticipatory energy of the room suddenly flicked into nervousness as all present members realized what was happening. Chekov was the first to speak. "Why must Joanna start on uneven bars? It is not her specialty!"

"True, but at least she'll get it out of the way. She flies so well if she's on," Uhura surmised, tucking her leg up under her butt.

Sulu reached towards the meat tray and snagged a piece of roast beef and a pickle. Crunching loudly, he said through a half full mouth, "But only if she's on. You know how hot and cold Jo is on bars."

"Here's to hoping she's hot," Jim said without thinking. Turning his head towards his glaring best friend, Kirk rolled his eyes and shoved McCoy's shoulder. "You know I don't mean it like that! Jesus, stop looking at me like I just hit on your kid! She's fifteen, for God's sake! And did I mention that _she's your daughter_?!"

"I put nothing past you, Jim. Remember, we were roommates at the Academy," McCoy parroted, shoving Jim's words from earlier back in his face.

"God, that stim shot is not strong enough. You're still being a crabby bastard," Kirk muttered, instead turning his attention towards the screen while he sipped his beer.

The captain watched as Joanna focused, staring intently at the apparatus while she waited for the previous gymnast's score to post. The young lady rolled her right ankle around in a slow circle and kicked out her legs a couple of times to stay loose. Going over to the chalk bowl, Joanna rubbed more of the white powder under her grips and all over the palms of her hands before wandering back to her starting position to wait.

The green flag finally went up, and with a raise of her right hand, Joanna puffed out her chest, lifted her chin and saluted the judges. Focusing on the low bar, she jumped forward, grabbed the bar and swung her feet under. Little white particles of chalk mushroomed up above her hands and head when her hands contacted the flexible bar. Unfazed, Jo pressed through, using the forward momentum in counteraction to help draw her hips up level with the bar. At the same time, she swung her legs under and popped straight into a handstand with the ease and precision borne of years upon years of work. She effortlessly made her first full pirouette, took a swing with her legs straddled under the bar and then completed another full turn perfectly in handstand at the top of the bar. Joanna tightened her core and allowed her momentum to put her into a backwards swing. She straddled her legs again to avoid hitting her feet or legs on the mat beneath her. But instead of swinging clear though, she kicked her feet high into the air and threw her body up and forward. The sudden move lobbed her up to the high bar, and after catching cleanly, Jo kipped to a perfectly vertical handstand.

McCoy was doing everything in his power to stay seated. Uneven bars always made him nervous – hell, everything about gymnastics scared him to death, but his little girl seemed to love the sport. He was well aware that Joanna knew what she was doing. The tricks in her routines were practiced over and over again, worked until she could do them in her sleep. But the hours of preparation and top-notch coaching were of little comfort to Len, both as her father and as a doctor with direct knowledge of the fragility of the human body. Accidents still happened, muscle memory and training be damned.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Len focused as Joanna swung what she called a "giant", or as she explained to him, a full circle completely around the high bar. She came back around for another revolution, but instead of swinging through the downstroke cleanly, she piked at the waist and stuck her toes on the bar as she hit six o'clock position. Squeezing every muscle in her body, Jo used the swing and momentum to literally launch herself through the air, completely laid out as she flew backwards over the high bar. She kicked her feet through the move, toes barely clearing the bar as she caught in an emphatic cloud of chalk to cheers and whistles in the gym. The room on the Enterprise erupted into a similar chorus; despite the difference in languages, the expressions of joy all meant the same thing.

"Whoo!" Uhura yelled. "She caught that by her fingertips!"

"Yes, but important part is that she caught the bar," Chekov added, giddy with excitement for Joanna to continue the routine.

Kirk squeezed the beer bottle, breath held in anticipation. "Yeah!" he shouted loudly while he pumped a stoked fist through the air and high-fived Sulu. "She just nailed her flying thing – what is that move called? A Nabieva?"

"Ding, ding, ding! Captain wins," Uhura confirmed. Without taking her eyes from the competition, she added coyly, "But don't even think about trying it yourself. You'll tear your hands to shreds."

"Bones'll fix it," Jim replied petulantly as he drained the dregs of his beer and perfectly tossed the empty into the garbage across the room.

"No, Bones will _not_ fix it. If you decide that you want to swing around in circles while you break every single bone in your body, that's your problem. You can deal with the consequences. You'd deserve it, idiot," McCoy fired back as he leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. Interlacing his fingers and using it an impromptu chin rest, he muttered in addition, "Now, shut up and let me finish watching my daughter's bar set."

"Seriously? Did you hear yourself just then?" Jim pouted as he turned his attention back to the screen. "Your mouth _always_ moving. You can talk and do a lot of stuff at the same time. Why is this any different?"

"Because I'm working on not having a heart attack in the middle of my own quarters while I watch my daughter take her own life in her hands. Why would I be worried about this? Well, as I'm surrounded by people who will just point and laugh when I drop dead, I find that to be a matter of concern. Now shut. The hell. Up." McCoy punctuated his statement by grabbing the remote for his vidscreen and cranking the volume to a slightly uncomfortable level. Satisfied that he could see Jim's lips moving while no sound was audible, the doctor settled back into the overstuffed couch and watched his daughter finish her bar routine.

Joanna swung a giant around the high bar, straddling her legs in order to clear her feet from hitting the low bar as she passed. She wound up, gathering an insane amount of speed for the dismount, kicking hard as she soared underneath the high bar. She straightened every part of her body, from her neck to her toes, initiating the two laid out somersaults she planned on doing as a dismount. She drove her legs hard through the flips, spotted the ground, and stuck her feet down into the mat. With a small hop forward, Joanna smiled, saluted the judges and trotted away from the apparatus.

A burst of fresh cheers took over McCoy's quarters as the adults celebrated a well-executed bar set. Several high fives were exchanged and held breaths released. But through the elation, Kirk could feel the CMO's gaze boring holes into the side of his head. He allowed his eyes to slide over in the older man's direction before he said nonchalantly, "What?"

"You knew what Jo's big release skill was called," he said through narrowed, suspicious eyes. The doctor turned his intense stare towards the other occupants in the room and added, "And the rest of you knew that bars isn't Jo's best event. Is there something you people want to tell me?"

Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Really, Bones? You think you're the only one who watches this feed when we're able to get it to the ship?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did think I was the only one watching," he replied as the doctor leveled a cold glare at Chekov. "I didn't realize that my daughter was your business, Captain."

The rest of the room's occupants dissolved into a hazy mist of background doldrums when Kirk turned his neck and glared at his best friend. "It's my business when it involves the welfare of my crew, _Lieutenant Commander_," Kirk fired back, reciprocating with McCoy's rank in full command voice.

The doctor growled something unintelligible under his breath while his face contorted into a proper snarl.

Perched on the ottoman just to the left of the couch, Uhura sighed. She unfolded her long legs and set her feet on the floor. Spinning in a half circle to face the room's owner, she laid a gentle hand on his thigh and looked him in the eye. In a reserved, subdued voice she rarely used, Nyota said, "Len, all bullshit aside, we'll leave if you'd rather watch this alone. But we're here now because Jo's family just like you are." She paused, tilted her head and in the sharp, confident tone everyone was use to as Uhura's 'bridge voice', she added, "Even if we want to hit you with a beer bottle every now and again."

McCoy swiped one hand over his face while long fingers massaged his temples. "Ah, hell," he began, his natural Georgian accent thickening on account of stress and tiredness. He lifted his chin and smiled at Uhura when he said, "You all can stay. My momma would be disappointed in me if I threw you out now, after you all have gone to the trouble you have on my account."

"Well, not all yours," Sulu said without thinking as he reached for a sandwich. He took a large bite, chased it with some beer and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, steadfastly ignoring the napkin Chekov waved in his face. He held up one finger while he finished chewing before he said, "Speaking of trouble, Chekov, I do have one question."

As the gymnasts rotated through the next apparatus, Pavel turned slowly around to face his friend. The young man looked like a deer caught in the headlights; his blue eyes looked ready to pop out of his head at any given moment. His gaze shifted nervously from person to person before he finally replied nervously," Yes, Hikaru?"

"I want to know how you managed to stream the meet all the way to the Enterprise. It's not like we're just off a starbase, and that's the only time we can pick up these feeds," he questioned, asking the one thing everyone in the room was dying to know.

Chekov cringed and looked down. "I would prefer not to answer that. It would be best for you if you did not know. It required…creatiwity."

McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. His face was locked into stony disapproval as he stared down the Russian navigator practically quaking in fear on the floor of his quarters. "So you hacked it, then?"

Pavel took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he contemplated how to best phrase his response to mitigate his brig time. "I do not believe that 'hacked' is the right word. More like," Chekov began, searching his surprisingly vast English vocabulary for the right word. He tapped his finger against the side of his face a couple of times before he blurted out, "More like 'intercepted' the transmission."

The doctor's expression remained stony as he breathed in and out. Finally, the death glare receded as a smile graced his lips. Nodding a couple of times, McCoy snorted and told Pavel, "Pretty good, kid."

Chekov beamed. "Thank you! Sometimes, I even impress myself."

"Don't get too proud," McCoy grumbled, looking around the room and into the faces of his snickering friends. He shifted on the couch, trying to regain some of his intimidation factor as he added, "But let's get this straight: you break into my quarters again like this, I'm just gonna hogtie you and throw you out the door. Got it?"

"Da. _Ya pon-ee-mai-yo_," Chekov replied in Russian, signifying his comprehension.

"Hey, speaking of unauthorized guests, where's Scotty?" Uhura asked.

"Scotty? Oh, shit…" Jim replied, dropping his head into his hands. "I forgot all about him."

"That's disconcerting, Jim. Remind me not to go on an away mission with you. My luck you'd call Scotty to beam us all back up and forget about me," Nyota said disapprovingly through pursed lips.

McCoy snorted loudly. "Like hell Jim would ever forget about you. No, he'd leave me on the surface of some desolate planet, and he wouldn't realize it until he needed someone to reattach his arms to his torso."

"Hey!" Jim protested. "You guys are talking about your captain here!"

"Captain, infant, same thing," McCoy supplied, alternating each hand as he moved them up and down in the air like they were pans on a scale.

Jim waved one finger in his best friend's face. "Bones, there is absolutely, positively no way I'd _ever_ miss beaming you back up from an away mission. We'd know if you weren't at the extraction point. No one within a thousand miles can miss your constant bitching. It's like a homing beacon."

McCoy lifted his ass in the air and wordlessly plucked the football-shaped pillow from under his left thigh, launching it properly towards Kirk's head. The plush but surprisingly pointy end hit Jim squarely in the neck before it bounced harmlessly to the floor. He sat smugly and stared his captain down.

If not for Kirk's supremely well-maintained reflexes, the beer he was holding in his right hand might have gone flying across the room. Instead, Jim merely shook his head and turned his gaze over towards McCoy. "Dude, what the hell was that for?"

"My other option was to shoot you, but you imposed rules on us that prohibit me from actually doing it."

"Sorry to ruin your fun Bones, but the regs are from Starfleet. Not me."

"Indeed they are," a cultured voice concurred from just beyond the privacy wall.

McCoy all but collapsed into the pillows on the couch. He let out a long, loud groan and covered his face with his hands. "God, make it stop." He titled his head to the side just in time to see Spock float into the living room – his living room. Waiving one hand through the air, the doctor asked, "Is there anyone _else_ on this ship that feels the need to invade my personal space tonight?"

From behind Spock, the ship's engineer materialized out of what looked like thin air. Grinning madly, Scotty made a beeline straight for the giant tub of beer and plunged a greedy hand into the bucket. He shook off the excess water from the longneck, glanced around the room for a quick headcount and said, "Nope. Looks like we've got the lot of us here now."

"This is a dream. That's the only conclusion I'm going to accept right now. It's a bad nightmare that was induced by Chapel and her goddamned affinity for those goddamned hypos. When I wake up, I swear someone's going to die," McCoy growled while he lifted his head just enough to shoot Spock a very menacing glare. "Are you here for the party I didn't know I was hosting, too?"

"I was unaware such an event was taking place. But, the presence of nearly all the ship's senior staff does explain the strange signal Mr. Scott picked up."

"Aye," Scotty began, stepping forward while he literally elbowed Spock to the side. "I was workin' to increase the range of our sensor arrays, and I caught wind of a very faint, well-masked signal. It wasn't anythin' I'd ever seen before, so I thought it was someone up to no good. I got Mr. Spock here, and we traced it back to your quarters, Dr. McCoy."

"Wonderful," Bones replied, deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest and lips set in the familiar scowl.

Oblivious (or immune) to the CMO's icy stare, Scotty smiled and laughed. "Well, at least it wasn't something bad! I was preparin' for the worst!"

"And now that we've established the signal coming into the Enterprise was, in fact, initiated by a member of this crew, regulations require me to question whomever managed to circumvent normal security controls. Furthermore, a prudent explanation of this feed's purpose would be equally appreciated," Spock probed as his right eyebrow slowly arched up his forehead.

Jim pushed himself up off the couch with a dramatic grunt before he stepped up to his second in command. Wrapping one arm around the Vulcan's shoulders, he steered Spock over to his formerly occupied seat and literally pushed him down. "This is the reason," Kirk said, pointing at the screen.

Spock looked befuddled. "I do not understand. Though this appears to be a gymnastics meet, it is not the sport of choice for anyone in this room."

"It is for his daughter," Uhura said as a slow-motion replay of Joanna's first tumbling pass on floor exercise flashed on the screen.

"Joanna," Spock surmised. Impressed, he twisted his entire torso around so he could make eye contact with McCoy. "While I knew your offspring practiced gymnastics, I was unaware she possessed such high levels of aptitude for her sport."

"Sure as shit didn't get it from me. You wouldn't catch me dead doing that triple twisting…thing," McCoy replied with a lazy motion of his hand towards the screen. Still somewhat transfixed, he watched as Joanna backhandspringed her way across the floor before whipping into a triple twisting laid out somersault. Shaking his head as her score flashed, McCoy stifled a mighty yawn while he downed another shot.

Spock's sharp eyes narrowed, all interest in the meet forgotten momentarily as he observed the clearly drained surgeon. "You appear overworked, Doctor. Perhaps viewing this meet was not a logical choice, as it seems a much more sensible option would have been for you to procure some rest."

Sulu snorted out loud. "You just used 'logic' in the same sentence as 'McCoy'. You really think those two words mix?"

"It was merely an attempt."

Scotty jerked his head towards McCoy. "I think Mr. Sulu there is right. I canna' see why you keep tryin', Mr. Spock. I think yer barkin' up the wrong tree with that one. Even the captain agrees that logic with the good doctor is a no-win scenario," the engineer said through a mouthful of sandwich he'd snagged from the tray in the kitchen.

"Does he now?" Bones answered as he sent a withering gaze towards his best friend.

Jim, unfazed, shrugged and dipped his chin. "Yep. But, in my defense, I only did it because I knew it would cost Pike a grand to the other admirals."

"Remind me again why I'm your friend?"

"Because no one else would put up with you, especially when, as your first act of friendship, you puked all over me on the Riverside shuttle!" Kirk replied without hesitation.

"So that is true?" Scotty questioned while the remainder of the room, minus Spock, dropped into fits of giggles. "I heard the scuttlebutt and all, but I couldn't believe it to be honest."

"Projectile," Jim said with a dramatic motion of his hand from his mouth outward. Smug, Jim looked up and asked, "Right, Bones?"

"If I die at a thousand years old, that still won't have been enough time to live that shit down," he muttered. McCoy set his jaw, put on his best glare and gave the room the panoramic view while he doctor announced, "Now, if you're through rehashing every embarrassing moment of my Starfleet career, can we finish watching the meet so I can make our Vulcan science officer, who has officially become my mother, happy?"

"Your rest schedule neither pleases me or displeases me, Dr. McCoy," Spock said from the corner of the couch.

"Oh, come off it, man," McCoy scoffed loudly. "You're still horseshit at deception. Let me break it down for you: yes, it's been a hell of a day. Yes, I'm tired. No, I'm not going to sleep and miss my baby girl's meet. Deal with it."

"I see you have," Spock replied as his gaze lowered towards the spent stim cartridge and bottle of bourbon sitting adjacent to one another on the coffee table. "It is an odd choice, especially given your vast knowledge on human anatomy and physiology, that you would choose to mix a stimulant and a depressant. It seems…counterproductive."

Rolling his eyes, McCoy quipped, "Those? The stim shot is so I can stay awake; the bourbon is keep me from hittin' you upside the head when you piss me off. You don't have to worry, Spock. I'm a goddamned doctor. I know what I'm doing."

"I have never questioned your competency," Spock replied with a barely concealed smirk.

"No, only his sanity," Uhura chimed in. Just as quickly, she squeaked and covered her mouth with her hands. Her eyes darted about the room when she let a muffled, "Did I say that out loud?" sneak through her interlaced fingertips.

"I hate you all," McCoy stated, punctuating each word like they were their own individual sentence. Thankful that the banter encompassing the room had finally died down, the doctor turned his attention back to his vidscreen in time to get a quick glimpse of the third rotation's standings. With his daughter in third place as the groups moved to their final apparatuses, McCoy clenched his fists tightly and whispered for the second time in as many hours, "Come on Jojo."

Spock, studiously ignoring the hubbub around him, focused intently on the dissecting the particulars of the meet. He watched as several of the competitors, Joanna included, lined up at the end of a long, narrow runway. The camera panned backwards, and in the foreground, a large, flat, tongue-like table loomed into frame. Each young lady checked a mark on the floor and then began a full-tilt run at the oddly-shaped apparatus. But in the instant before they collided headlong into the immovable object, each gymnast bounded off a springboard, either forward or backwards, did a few impressive flips and twists in the air, and landed on the mat stationed on the other side.

Impressed, the Vulcan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I have never had the pleasure of viewing a gymnastics meet as it played out live. I would very much like to learn about it. What is the purpose of this event?"

On the floor, Jim dropped onto the surprisingly soft rug and leaned against the side of the ottoman. "We're on vault, right?"

"That's all she's got left," Sulu replied.

As he watched the final rotation's warm ups play out on the screen, the captain pondered how best to describe one the most exciting, dangerous and bonkers events of gymnastics. Smirking, Kirk angled his face up and made eye contact with his communications officer before asking, "Hey Uhura, how did Jo explain vault to you again?"

"'Run as fast as you can, cartwheel, look, block, pull, kick, spot the ground, land, stick and don't move'."

"Fascinating. I will never understand, as you humans call it, the rush of the game, but I do appreciate the certain degree of technicality I assume is ever-present in gymnastics," Spock said, captivated by the vault warm up.

"Something like that," Kirk chuckled out as he snagged an olive from the tray and tossed it in his mouth.

"Wault is Joanna's best event. She has best Yurchenko I have ever seen!" Chekov announced proudly.

"Yurchenko?" Spock questioned.

"It's the vault style. Just watch," Uhura instructed as she pointed to the screen. "It's a roundoff cartwheel onto the springboard, and then a backwards entry on to the table. See?" she explained as a Russian competitor nearly followed her commentary. "Then it's a strong push off the table and a few flips and twists through the air. In this case, it looked like a Yurchenko double – one and a half laid out somersaults with two full twists mixed in."

"Joanna does Amanar! Only an extra half twist than double, but much, much harder," Chekov added as the younger McCoy took her place at the end of the runway, waiting for the judges to post the previous gymnast's score. Jo slathered a bunch of chalk all over her feet, calves and hands. When the green flag went up, she saluted the judges before lining up with her mark.

Sulu laughed out loud when he saw the serious expression on the normally bubbly girl's face as Jo literally stared the vault down. "Look at that face! She's either plotting to take over the world looking like that, or she's trying to become the gymnastic version of the Terminator!" he exclaimed.

There was no other time for commentary by the rest of the crew. Jo drew one leg backwards, rocked her weight from her left leg to her right and took off at a full sprint.

Pumping his fists enthusiastically through the air, Chekov reverted to his native Russian and hollered, "_DAVAI, DAVAI, DAVAI!"_ as Jo reached the springboard. With excess chalk flying off her toes, she executed her roundoff perfectly, launching her body backwards on to the table. With her shoulders absolutely square to the vault, her hands planted on the soft, suede-like material square coating the table. She used her momentum to propel herself up into the rafters of the building, at the same time using her shoulders and feet to initiate the twists and the flips.

The gasp heard 'round the arena was similar to the one rocketing through the CMO's quarters on the Federation's flagship. No other vaulter soared as high over the table as Joanna, nor did any other vaulter posses the ability to have finished the first twist before she started coming down. But it was her impeccable form that captivated the gym, the Starfleet officers, and hopefully, the judges on the floor. Every bit of her body was stretched from her pointed toes to her ramrod straight legs to her tight torso. The balance and timing were perfect as Joanna drove her body hard through the flips and twists. She shot her arms straight out to each side to stop her twisting momentum as her toes cleared the threshold of the vaulting table. Her feet hit the blue mat plum down the centerline and didn't budge one inch.

The quarters of the CMO's quarters erupted into wild, multilingual cheers as Jo stuck her landing cold. Sulu and Kirk exchanged several high fives while Uhura practically leapt into McCoy's arms. The doctor's face was warring between shocked and amazed all at the same time. Joanna even looked impressed with herself, which was a feat in and of itself. Having never once cracked a smile throughout the entire meet, Jo's face was splitting from ear to ear as she literally flounced off the podium and into the waiting arms of her coach.

Jim looked over just in time to see a short, whimsical expression pass over Bones' face. Kirk knew that look, knew that it meant his best friend wished he were the one hugging Joanna in that moment instead of her coach. The captain bit down a sigh as he reached for one of the kosher dill pickles on the side of the meat tray. Kirk reached up and gave Bones' knee a friendly pat; the doctor returned the gesture with a tight smile, unaware of what was happening five feet to his left.

It was like the emotion in the room went from Warp 9 to allstop, in the span of a half of a second.

The Russian navigator, pent up like a little jack in the box, practically leapt to his feet. He pumped one emphatic fist in the air while he yelled out, "_STOOOY!_" at the top of his lungs. He realized a moment too late that Spock was standing directly above him, and that the second in command had leaned in for a better view while Joanna was soaring through the stratosphere. A loud, juicy 'pop' sounded through McCoy's quarters as Pavel's fist made absolute contact with Spock's face. When his brain registered that he'd hit something, Chekov wheeled around and blinked rapidly. He saw the steadily increasing stream of green blood leaking from the first officer's nose and gasped.

As fast as the room's elation came, it disappeared just as quickly. Every jaw in the room fell as eyes bulged out of heads. Kirk could have sworn he heard crickets chirping in the moments after his navigator punched his first officer. Jim eventually regained control of his mental faculties well enough to suggest to Chekov, "Pavel, you might want to get the man a napkin so he doesn't bleed all over Bones' carpet."

Pavel's mouth opened and closed once, then twice, before he rocketed off to the kitchen to grab a towel. Shoving his find into the hands of Spock, Chekov said, "Ay. I am careless, Mister Spock. I am sorry! I did not mean to hit you!"

Spock accepted the towel with the grace and civility borne of his culture. He dabbed it at his bleeding nose and said simply, "Ensign, I do believe that the improper use of Starfleet property is punishable by brig time."

Chekov's head fell to his chest. "If that is where you must take me, I would not protest. It would be deserwed, both for striking a superior officer and for illegal feed."

"I have not finished my statement. I was about to say that while it is punishable by brig time, I do not believe that it would be appropriate it your case. If you were to convince Dr. McCoy to remedy my bleeding nose, I suppose I could be persuaded to overlook the breech in etiquette."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "I try to stay out of it, but yet I still manage to get dragged into everyone else's bullshit." He pushed his body off the comfortable couch while he shot over his shoulder, "Don't get up on my account. Just sit there. Maybe I can dig up a phaser while I'm at it to shoot myself."

"Drama queen!" Kirk called.

Bones disappeared into his bedroom without a word, holding up the middle finger of his left hand as he walked around the corner. He returned a moment later with a battered Ole Miss medkit in one hand and some clean towels in the other. Motioning for Spock to come to the kitchen for its better light, McCoy sat the Vulcan down at the breakfast bar and popped the kit open.

"You keep a fully stocked medkit in your quarters? Didn't realize you were so prepared, but it's comforting to know that someone here actually thinks things through," Scotty called from the living room, occupying the seat McCoy left vacant.

Bones picked up the tricorder and flipped it on, adjusting it to Spock's unique biochemistry and physiology. Absently, he replied to the engineer, "That's not being prepared. It's just a force of habit I picked up after rooming with your captain for the better part of three years."

"If you say that I'm still alive because of you, I will come over there and kick you in the head," Kirk announced, cutting off the extra sentence that was teetering on the tip of McCoy's tongue.

Bones stopped, sighed dramatically and laid his hands down on the countertop. "Come try it, Jim. I've got a bunch of new vaccines I'd _love_ to try out."

Kirk shook his head and scoffed. "Not worth my effort. Not tonight anyway. I'd rather finish watching the meet."

"Yeah, nice of you assholes to let me finish watching my own daughter's meet. I appreciate that," McCoy shot shortly as he waited for his instrument to finish the scan. Turning back to the Vulcan sitting quietly on the barstool, the doctor said, "It doesn't look like he broke anything."

"That is most agreeable," Spock replied, arching one eyebrow while he made a move to stand.

McCoy gently pushed his charge back to the stool. "Ah! Sit. Let me just check to be sure. Can't have your face exploding during transport now, can we?" Setting the tool down, the doctor gently probed the nasal region, stopping when he saw Spock wince. McCoy nodded and handed the first officer a clean towel while he offered the recycler for the soiled one. "It's just going to be sore for a while. I could run you through the regenerator, but I don't think it'd do anything more than a little R&R will do."

"Then I prefer to take the natural route. I have heard you state many times that sometimes, it is wiser to allow the body to heal itself."

McCoy's head snapped up, his green eyes widening in shock. A second later, a sly, slow grin worked its way across his face as he said, "Well, I'll be damned. He does listen to some things I say."

"I listen to everything you say, Doctor. I simply choose not to implement some of your suggestions, as I do not find them logical," Spock answered as he stood, linking his hands behind his back.

Crossing his arms over his chest, McCoy harrumphed. "Some? Try all."

"Some," Spock reassured.

"Most."

Spock lifted his eyebrows. "Indeed. Most."

The pair fell into a surprisingly companionable silence while McCoy finished his examination and cleaned up the medical supplies he'd used. While the doctor was putting the kit back in its proper storage spot, Spock wandered out into the living room and rejoined the group. "At what stage is the meet in normal progression?"

"Jesus, will you ever sound like a real person and not the ship's computer?" Jim asked as Spock resumed his occupation of McCoy's couch. "The last girl is about to vault. She's the one Jo was chasing after the last rotation."

"Is it mathematically possible for her to win?"

"Absolutely, but it won't be easy," Uhura answered. "Like Chekov said, Jo's best event by far is vault, but Kiralenkova's isn't on the same level. Her vault is good – she can do the same one Jo did, but it's not nearly as clean, high or controlled."

"Elena Sergeyevna frightens me when she performs Amanar. I fear for her legs," Chekov piped in from his seat on the floor, using the proper Russian system of respect when speaking of Kiralenkova. "She should do double twist and be safe, but she is stubborn and proud and will not listen to her coach."

"So, you're saying she's a typical Russian, then?" Sulu asked, drawing out the vowel in the first word of his sentence.

"Da. It is blessing and curse all at once," Pavel answered succinctly with a nod of his head.

"Fair enough," Hikaru agreed before he refocused his eyes on the meet.

"Here we go, boys and girls!" Uhura called while she leaned forward in his seat.

Raising her left hand above her head but keeping her right parallel to the floor, the blond-haired Russian on the screen proudly saluted the judges as she stood to the side of the runway. She stepped on to the blue carpet and found her chalk mark. Taking a deep breath, she took a half stride with her left leg and used her right to jump straight up into the air, kicking hard through each stride as she maximized explosive acceleration down the runway. Elena hurdled, did her roundoff, hit the springboard and threw herself onto the vaulting table.

A few hundred light years away, seven adults all held their breath as the young lady flew through the air. They watched her twist hard, squeezing every part of her body to maximize rotation on both the X and Y axis. Uhura clenched her fists as Kirakelkova completed the first twist and half flip. The room head Chekov inhale when he spotted the tiny beginnings of untidy legs during the second twist. Kiralenkova's momentum wasn't spinning her fast enough, in her estimation, for her to complete the vault before she hit the mat. She bent her knees a tiny bit in order to speed up the rotation. Elena piked at her hips _juuust_ slightly to bring the rotation in even faster before she spotted the ground, feet crashing into the blue mat milliseconds before a face-first disaster. Kiralenkova thrust her arms above her head once she'd stabilized her body on landing, turned to salute the judges, and walked off the mat.

The room let out their collective breaths. "This one's going to be close," Kirk said with a shake of his head. "That wasn't a great vault, but we're talking a half a point lead after floor and that disaster Jo had on beam she has to make up. But if anyone can get 'er done on vault, it's Jojo."

McCoy peeled one eye open, finally unsticking his butt cheeks from the couch against which they were painfully clenched as he watched the final vault. "What are you doing using my nickname for _my_ daughter, Jim?" he asked angrily.

Jim's eyes shifted left and then right. "Uhm, it slipped?" he replied, plastering a cheesy smile on his face.

The doctor made a move to physically get up from his seat in order to beat the captain senseless, but a gentle tug on the back of his shirt stopped him. McCoy turned and followed the arm back towards the owner, finally winding up glaring into Spock's dark eyes. "Goddammit, you annoying Hobgoblin, let me go so I can-"

"Doctor, if you would decrease your level of anger and turn towards the screen, I think you will find the results of the competition quite pleasing. It appears Joanna has, indeed, won," Spock replied matter-of-factly while he pointed one long, elegant finger towards McCoy's vidscreen.

Len glared at Spock and held himself in place, half sitting and half standing, for long beat. He narrowed his eyes but turned his head toward the shot of the scoreboard. Squarely on top was 'J. McCoy', placed perfectly next to the big number one. The doctor sunk back down into his seat on the couch and actually smiled – fully and completely – within view of the entire senior staff. His eyes shined and even if McCoy wouldn't admit it, he did sit up a bit straighter when the results sunk into his brain.

"Wow," Kirk said, breaking the silence. "So those muscles in your face haven't atrophied in a slow, pitiful death from disuse. Good to know, Bones. I was worried for them."

McCoy reciprocated by wiping the smile from his face and instead replacing it with a stare that said, '_I might be your doctor and your best friend, and you might be the captain of this flying tin can, but you're still a pain in my ass_.' Out loud, he said, "Aren't you morons leaving yet?"

"Aye, I suppose we should. Important things to do, people to see," Scotty said, slapping the tops of his thighs with his hands. He grabbed three sandwiches from the tray on his way past the food in the kitchen and said, "We should do this again some time. It was fun!"

"Goodnight, Scotty," the room called while they pretended not to notice Spock slip the ecstatic engineer the remainder of the food.

"I'm out, too. Big day tomorrow," Sulu said, bringing his fists up in front of his face like a boxer.

Kirk pointed a finger at his helmsman as his face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, I almost forgot about that! You're in the semifinals tomorrow. Cupcake, right?"

"His ass is so grass," Hikaru replied confidently.

"You know the ninety nine percent of this ship has wagered against you?" Kirk asked.

"Of course I do. That's the beauty of it, especially when he loses. The man is way too overconfident and cocky. It'll be fun taking him down a peg or twelve," Sulu replied, emptying his beer and picking up a few other bottles on his way to the recycler.

McCoy snorted loudly. "'Overconfident and cocky.' That doesn't sound familiar at all," he said, pointing one finger towards Jim.

Before either man could say a word, Hikaru, standing in the doorway to McCoy's quarters, held up both hands. "I'm staying out of this one. I'm out. Doctor, thanks for putting up with us, and I'm happy Jo won. Night all!"

"I shall go rest as well. It has been long day. Doctor McCoy, I hope you are not too displeased with my unauthorized access to your home. I only thought you would enjoy the meet, and I did not think it all the way through. I am sorry," Chekov said to the doctor's blank face.

"It's okay, kid. I'd rather have you breaking into my quarters than our dear captain. God only knows what he'd have done instead," the doctor said with a shake of his head. "Just don't do it again."

"It will not happen again. I can promise you that."

"Good. Now get out of here and get some sleep," McCoy said to Chekov's retreating back. "And Pavel?" he said, stopping the young man at the door. "Nice work."

Chekov beamed from ear to ear, his energetic expression making him look even younger than his not-yet-twenty years. "Thank you, Sir! It was my pleasure!"

Uhura, busied with cleaning up as much as she could, sidled up next to Spock. She wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. "We should get going," she said sleepily. "Watching Jo win was fun, Leonard, as was spending some time with you away from work. We don't do it often enough."

McCoy met Uhura's genuine gaze. He ducked his chin and said, "Thank you, Nyota. And, uh, sorry about earlier, being an asshole and all."

Waving her hand, Uhura let out a puff of air, wrapped her arms around the surprised surgeon and replied, "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it after being on this ship. Also, thank you for helping Spock. I know that you two don't always see eye to eye, and I know how much these meets mean to you when we can get the feeds. That was very kind of you."

When he was certain his face returned to its normal color due to the onset of a sudden bout of embarrassment, Len managed to extract himself from Uhura's impressively strong embrace. He leaned towards her face and admitted very quietly, "He's not as bad as I thought. He still gets on my nerves from time to time, but he's an okay guy." With a stern expression, he added, "You tell anyone I said that, and I might have to hurt you."

Nyota lifted her right hand, pinched together her index finger and thumb, and ran the appendage across the length of her full lips. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me," she told him as she and Spock prepared to take their leave.

McCoy nodded to Spock before he turned his head back to the screen, just in time to catch the awards ceremony. Pouring himself a final drink, he lifted it towards his beaming daughter as she accepted her gold medal. "Congratulations, Jojo," he whispered to the young lady practically bouncing up and down on the top step of the medal platform.

Out of the line of site of the ship's CMO, Uhura, Kirk and Spock each came to an all-stop at the same time. The three senior members of the Enterprise staff exchanged glances. Kirk and Uhura both nibbled away at their lower lips as their guts churned while Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

"Spock," Kirk pleaded. "I know you can fix this."

Interlacing his hands behind his back, the Vulcan merely cocked his head to the side and ratcheted up his eyebrow one more notch. In a low voice, he answered, "I do not understand why, each time you require assistance with communications, you look to me. Clearly, our very capable communications officer is here with you."

Jim pursed his lips. "You know what I mean. Work some of your Vulcan magic and make it happen." Kirk stole a quick look into the living room to make sure McCoy was still otherwise occupied with the clean up of his quarters. "Can you do it? Please? As a favor to me?"

To the rest of the universe, Spock's expression could only be described as 'bored' and 'impassive'. But to his crew and friends, it was anything but. The imperceptible twitch at the corners of his mouth and the way his eyes were shining, even under the low lights of Dr. McCoy's quarters, were all dead giveaways. Without a word, the Vulcan produced his comm from his pocket and set it gently on the counter. "Indeed. Then I suppose it was a wise decision that, as soon as Mr. Scott discovered the signal emitting from this ship, I took the liberty of placing a call to one Jocelyn Darnell. She is expecting the doctor's comm at the conclusion of the meet."

Jim smiled so hard Spock contemplated calling in the ship's surgeon to ensure the captain's well-being. Instead, Kirk clapped his first officer on the shoulder with the same ferocity he did upon their initial meeting. "So you don't hate him after all."

"I have never professed any dislike for Dr. McCoy, and I do not appreciate your embellishment of my perceptions."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Spock." Walking back into the living room, Jim stood in the center and stretched his entire body, emitting a loud groan as he went. "Well, kids. It's been a great night, but I'm beat. I'm going to go do captain-y things."

"Like masturbate?" McCoy fired off as he tossed a couple of used napkins down the recycler. "I wasn't kidding Jim! I told you that you were going to help me clean my quarters up after this meet, so if you think you're going to jet when there's still work to be done you can kiss my ass!" McCoy called at the captain's retreating back.

"Congratulations, Bones! Your daughter is way more awesome than you!" Kirk yelled as the doors whooshed open to allow him exit.

"Jim! Goddammit, get your sorry ass back here now! Jim! _JIM_!" McCoy hollered.

"Dr. McCoy," Spock began.

"Not now, Spock. I'm trying to think of a good way to murder that annoying infantile piece of shit I call a best friend," McCoy said as he glared fully at the closed door of his quarters.

"Doctor," Spock insisted.

Heedless of the first officer's words, McCoy continued ranting at the closed door, glaring at it for all it was worth as if Kirk could feel it down the hall of the ship. His voice pitched higher with every word that tumbled from his mouth as his hands gesticulated wildly in front of his face. "He always does this. Cuts and runs when there's work to be done. The only thing he should be in charge of is a garbage trawler, not a goddamned starship. Captain my ass!"

'_That's not very nice, Dad_,' a young female voice admonished sternly from the vicinity of Spock's right hand.

McCoy stopped, executing a perfect double take between Spock's hand and face before he blinked and then looked down. His mouth opened and closed twice before any real words came out of them. "Joanna?" he finally squeaked, his voice a good octave and a half higher than his normal speaking tenor.

'_Duh_,' she replied as if he were just around the corner, and not a few quadrants away.

As a dumbstruck CMO fought to regain control of his voice, Spock ordered smoothly, "Computer: please transfer the active communication from my personal comm to the screen in Dr. McCoy's quarters." The Vulcan gave a satisfied nod when Joanna's face popped up on the vidcomm screen the team previously used to watch the meet. Flipping his comm closed, Spock cleared his throat and waited for McCoy to turn. "Doctor, I trust you are capable of carrying out a conversation with your offspring. Please give her our regards."

"Did you do this?" the doctor asked.

Spock's eyes shifted around. "I may have had a hand in it, yes. But that is neither here nor there. What is important is that you and she are now connected."

Uhura laid one hand on Len's arm. "Don't think. Just go talk to her. I'm sure she's dying to tell her father about the meet."

"I don't know what to say-" McCoy stuttered out.

"I would think that 'thank you' and 'good night' will suffice."

McCoy shook his head. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but thank you, Spock, Nyota. I owe you."

"You owe us nothing more than the enjoyment of a conversation," Spock replied.

"You'd better collect," McCoy replied. "And good night," he said before turning his head back to his daughter.

'_Dad! I can't believe this! I don't know how they did it, but I can't believe it get to talk to you! I mean, you're in space! This is sooo cool. I can't wait to tell all my friends about it,_' she squealed, practically jumping up and down in her seat.

"I can't believe I get to hear your voice, baby girl. I saw your meet. You damn near gave your old man a heart attack, but you did good," he said.

Joanna's jaw dropped. '_You—You saw my meet?! How?!_'

McCoy smiled and looked down at the photo he had stationed on his desk of the seven bridge officers of the Enterprise. Sitting the table in Kirk's quarters, it was poker night given the cards and chips littering the surface. The group was squished together, all smiles and laughs for the camera. The relaxed faces and bright eyes drew a smile from the surgeon as he answered, "I guess you could say I have some pretty good friends."

'_I thought you were just swearing at your best friend_,' she said dryly.

"That happens every day."

'_And he's still your friend? Wow. Jim must be more thickheaded than I thought to put up with that kind of bullsh-_,' she began, cutting off her remark before she could finish the sentence. Clearing her throat, Jo amended, _'-crap._'

McCoy threw back his head and laughed. "You had it right the first time. Now, tell me about your meet. I want to hear it from you perspective."

Jo took a deep breath before she started talking at warp four. '_Well, it started okay on bars. Did you see my Nabieva! The best one – I mean the best one I've ever done! I've had trouble with over rotating my dismount, which usually means I fall on my butt, but it went all right today. And then floor was great. I have new floor music that I think is pretty epic. It's a string quartet cover of Master of Puppets by a really awesome old band called Metallica. It rocks really hard, and I thought it would be perfect, because I decided that pre-elite gymnastics music? It's boring with a capital 'B'. And then beam. Oh my God, beam sucked so hard. I can't believe I fell on my switch-half and then split the freaking beam to go with it. Like, embarrassing! I haven't split the beam since level four. But then vault made up for with a super exciting, super stuck Amanar! It was sooo amazing and cool, and I wish you could have been there, but you saw it, so I guess that makes it fine,_' she babbled incessantly.

"I wish I could have been there too, Jojo. But I'm glad you won, and more importantly, glad you had fun," he answered earnestly. "Now, tell me what else you've been up to lately."

'_Lots of stuff! School's going really well, and there's this boy I like,_' she began, settling in to tell her father about the happenings of her life.

McCoy simply sat back, rested his arms behind his head and smiled. "Yeah? Tell me more…"

* * *

"So, mission accomplished?" Jim asked the six other people in the room.

"I do think so," Scotty answered while Spock and Uhura entered the captain's quarters.

Next to the engineer, Christine Chapel shook her head and took a long pull from her beer. "Damn, I wish I could have been there. Seeing Len's face would have been epic, in more ways that one."

Kirk exchanged a clink of longneck bottles with his CMO's head nurse. "Yeah, but without you practically kicking Bones out of his sickbay, none of this would have happened. We owe you, Christine."

"How about a nice long shoreleave on Risa?" she suggested with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I think I can make it work," Jim replied after some mock consternation. "One week."

"Two."

"Ten days," Jim replied. "Final offer."

"Deal," she said, accepting the captain's outstretched hand.

"So," Sulu began, perching himself on the armrest of Jim's couch. "I'm thrilled and all that Jo did so well and that Dr. McCoy didn't murder us all on the spot. But there is one thing that's kind of bothering me."

"Are you talking about that guy sitting behind Jocelyn, rolling his eyes and yelling at her to sit down? Because I was thinking the same thing," Kirk said with a disapproving scowl.

Pavel nodded, munching on a piece of carrot stick from the veggie tray Scotty carried in. "Da, as vas I. it is not right."

"I don't know what's worse: the fact that I know what you're thinking, Kirk, or the fact that I agree with you," Uhura added from the barstool across the room.

Jim smirked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "What _am_ I thinking, Lieutenant?"

Nyota rolled her eyes. "Oh, Jesus. Grow up, will you? I know you're thinking that you're only one who gets to piss off the McCoy family like that."

Ignoring the barb against his maturity, Jim pointed one finger at his communications officer and replied, "Exactly. I mean, I know Joce can handle it. She _was _married to Bones, after all."

Sulu shook his head. "Yeah she can handle it, but she shouldn't have to. There was no reason to have to be 'that guy'," he said, adding quotation fingers to the already present disdain that dripped from his voice when he said 'that guy'.

"Well, if you guys were to do some digging about Sweater Man in your free time, I can't really stop you," Jim said, collapsing down into his favorite recliner. Across the room, his comm pinged with the familiar General Lee Dixieland horn signifying the receipt of a message. Kirk, annoyed, heaved himself out of his chair to retrieve it. While he was halfway to the device, he heard the various ringtones of five other people. "What the hell?" he asked, sticking head out of the door of his bedroom.

Grumblings and mutterings rippled throughout the captain's recreation area as each member of the senior staff reached for their personal comms. The lone exception was Spock; the Vulcan sat ramrod straight in his traditional, refined way as he waited for his comrades to digest the information he sent. Their eyes scanned the data, and one by one, each person lifted his or her head up and stared at the first officer in disbelief.

"Spock, seriously?" Jim questioned, practically busting at the seams as he tried valiantly to contain his laughter.

With a perfectly straight face, the first officer said, "I will assume that you will not be opposed if I dealt with this matter swiftly and expeditiously?"

Jim smiled and shook his head. "Just don't be too hard on the guy, Spock."

Spock raised one devious eyebrow and replied. "Indeed."

Kirk almost felt bad for the guy.

He'd never know what hit him.

Sneaky Vulcan bastard.

**-FIN-**

* * *

**Author's Notes**: In international gymnastics, if one is the first person to successfully complete an element at a world or Olympic games, that element is named after the gymnast. (For example, we have the Biles, a double layout half out and the Moors, a double twisting double layout, from last year's Worlds.) Joanna's uneven bar release move is named after Russian gymnast Tatiana Nabieva (shown by Nabvieva herself at :17 of this video watch?v=EYxy_LrFHuo), and her vault is named after Simona Amanar of Romania (done by none other than MyKayla Maroney here watch?v=ScPJhhObthY). For the videos, you'll need to put the requisite youtube dot com / thing in there first.


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